


Feverish Glow

by blindgumby (walkydeads)



Series: Warmth [2]
Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward morning after, Climbing Class, Love Confessions, M/M, Morning After, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 12:12:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4828706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkydeads/pseuds/blindgumby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part two of the tumblr ask series. This one is based on the prompt: "where embarassed conversations and shy confessions surely await them." Picks up right where the first part left off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feverish Glow

“So um,” Josh says after about fifteen minutes of awkward silence, “Last night, huh?”

Chris turns red. He’d grabbed a pair of sweatpants and threw them on as soon as he woke up. He cleans his room fastidiously, his back to Josh as often as possible, stacking and organizing things he never usually gives a shit about. Josh, on the other hand, is still lounging on the bed, stark naked, grinning like he just won the lottery.

“What… what about it?” Chris finally manages, 

“Well, I mean. It happened, man. We just not gonna talk about it now?” Josh asks, sitting upright. Chris turns to him, turns even redder, and immediately looks away again. 

“Would you please put some clothes on?” he hisses, sounding both exasperated and a little vulnerable to the charms of Josh’s self described ‘hot bod’. 

“Would you talk to me?” Josh retorts, but does as Chris says and grabs a pair of Chris’ boxers, slipping them on. This only succeeds in irritating Chris further, but Josh just shrugs in a ‘hey, man, I was just doing what you told me to’ kind of way.

Chris starts separating the colors and whites in his laundry hamper, “I’m not sure that there’s anything to talk about, Josh. Unless you’re looking for an apology,” and he pauses, actually looking a little scared, his voice wavering as he continues “In which case… In which case, I am sorry. I know I overstepped something we should have just ignored, and I probably fucked up our whole friendship,” he clears his throat, which Josh knows means he’s trying desperately not to cry, “I just couldn’t think, and I know that doesn’t help… you were so close, and–”

Josh shakes his head and moves towards Chris. Grabs the red shirt out of his hands and throws it down in the white pile (mostly just because he knows it’ll get on Chris’ nerves), and stands in front of him until Chris looks him in the eye. “No,” he says simply, softly, “I don’t want you to apologize. I think you know that, given the circumstances.”

Some of the anger, some of the pain melts out of Chris. His posture relaxes, and the fists at his sides unclench. “Then what? Are you gonna laugh at me? Make this some big joke. I mean, I can’t blame you.”

“No,” Josh repeats, “Chris, do you want to know something? I told Aaron Fletcher about Jeanie Simmonds’ training bra in third grade. I pointed it out and when he got in trouble for strap-snapping her? I was happy because he was annoying and I wasn’t going to have to sit next to him anymore. But sitting next to you was a bonus.”

“Stop,” Chris warns him, voice still trembling. He takes a step back and Josh follows. “Josh, I can’t blame you, but please don’t make fun of me. Please. Not over this.”

Josh looks at him, genuinely wounded, “I’m not? I’m trying to tell you. I used to stare at you in third grade. You were so blond, I never saw someone who looked like you before then… and you would smile so much, and you… you were so nice to everyone. I wanted to be close to you. So when you sat down next to me and introduced yourself, a part of me was just like ‘okay this is it’.”

Chris leans against the wall and he looks so open, so desperate for the right words and so vulnerable to be wounded. And Josh knows that he’s the only person to ever make Chris feel this way, and he hopes that he’s the only person that ever does. 

“What’s it?” Chris asks.

“Every time I’ve looked at you the past like ten years? I’ve felt the same way as when you first introduced yourself to me. You’re it, Chris. You’ve been it for a really long time.” 

He takes a step forward, and he can’t help but put his hands on Chris, sliding up his sides, cupping his face. Chris chokes out a nervous laugh, “Are we playing tag?”

Josh stares at his lips, unable to help it, “I don’t know,” he says, softly, “You tell me.”

Chris leans down and presses his lips to Josh’s, the bridge of his glasses bumping painfully against Josh’s nose. Josh makes a small noise of protest, but doesn’t let him move away, at least not yet. He presses Chris into the wall and kisses him, soft and slow and burning, the air still warm and heavy around them. When Chris finally moves back against him, it’s in slow and purposeful movements. His hands rubbing soothing circles against the small of Josh’s back, pulling him closer, dragging his hips against Josh’s.

They part long enough for Josh to pull Chris’ glasses off, and Chris, smiling crooked and bigger than Josh has ever seen, breathlessly says, “You’re it now.”

“Fucking finally,” Josh grins, pulling him back in.

It takes a shamefully short amount of time for them to repeat the night before. Chris flips the both of them and pins Josh against the wall, and Josh wraps his legs around Chris’ hips, secretly thralling at the ease with which Chris holds him up. His (technically Chris’) boxers and Chris’ sweatpants don’t do much to keep the warmth of their bodies or their arousal disguised, but in this early afternoon light, they can’t let go long enough to touch more, to get closer. 

They just move slowly together, undulating like a tide, Josh hitting his head against the wall every so often and not even caring, shifting his legs and letting them fall even further apart even though it aches just to feel Chris pressing against him even more.

Chris, surprisingly, shudders first, sweatpants darkened and damp with his cum as he gasps something that sounds a lot like Josh’s name. Josh rests his head against Chris’ neck to let him catch his breath, staring down between them to catch glimpses of Chris’ heaving and sweaty chest, his shaking arms, the evidence of his release. After a few seconds, they slide to the floor, Josh in Chris’ lap as it’s his turn to cum, shakily and wordlessly.

His knees press into Chris’ sides as he catches his breath, leaning back against the wall and meeting Chris’ eyes, clear and relieved and overjoyed. He smiles, and Josh feels himself smiling back, just a little delirious.

“It’s been you for a long time, too,” Chris tells him - rather unnecessarily - later, back in bed, pressed together over the covers, 

“I know,” Josh smiles back, smugly.

Chris doesn’t even bother to come up with some kind of retort, he just laughs until he’s kissed into willful silence.


End file.
